I don’t usually play odds this long (a small stream that may be accessible to us, and even if it’s reachable, it’s likely over its banks), but I’m feeling peevish about life in general.

That suggests I’m rolling the dice because I’ve got little to lose, which, sadly, is accurate.

Without going into the grim details, a weeklong (and largely wasted) roadtrip was followed by an L&T biz trip, which unhappily coincided with a sick daycare provider — all of which added up to me getting damned little actual work done the last couple weeks.

I’m seriously behind with one client and wishing things were that good with another.

And in an environment like that, you either kiss the contracts good-bye, or…

You postpone your weeklong fishing trip to Tennessee.

Crap.

Raine said he understood these gigs were important and Myrna told me it was OK; I’d fallen behind because I was being a responsible dad and plenty out there weren’t very responsible (my first irrational thought was “why can’t I be more like them?”).

Still, it rankles (that’s a highly literate word for “I had an adult temper tantrum”).

I’ll get that trip, but it’ll be later in the year, and things like this do force me to ask questions about the life I’ve built — and the lack of balance therein — that I’d rather not face.

Right now, all I’m interested in facing are some little small stream trout, who — by any reasonable estimation — I won’t be able to reach, much less catch.

That, dear Undergrounders, is a fitting metaphor for the last month.

See you (hopefully) on the stream, Tom Chandler

Now he gets to fish the Upper Sacramento all winter long (which is good, because it runs right by his home), and Wednesday, he was very, very happy the fishing season extends year-round. Why? Here’s 27 great reasons…):

Bigger than life? Wayne Eng's 27" of Upper Sacramento Brown Trout happiness.

That’s an Upper Sacramento Brown trout which Wayne suggests taped out at 27 inches. That’s two-seven, Undergrounders. On a river not exactly known for its populations of monster brown trout.

He caught it on a (ta-da!) black woolly bugger – at a time when the rain and snow melt were just starting to drive higher flows and murk the water a bit – an awfully good time to go headhunting.

Still, these kind of fish have a tendency to appear in the winter, and you’re often left to wonder exactly where the hell they were all summer.

Hiding at the bottom of a deep pool? Living the high life in Lake Shasta? Lacking a hideously outsized government research grant more information, we’re not sure.

But at least we know the things exist.

See you at the fly bin, Tom Chandler.

Best wishes to them both, and we hope Myrna returns home soon.

The McCloud River – which may be earning its “McCrowd” nickname – is also seeing a lot of fly fisherman.

Apparently, it’s getaway time in the mountains of Northern California, and I might suggest we’re seeing a lot of fly fishermen who are ending up here instead of more exotic locales.

I’m always happy to see the local economy acquire a little spring in its step, but for some among the guiding community, the strain of guide trip after guide trip takes a terrible (terrible!) toll, leading to heart-wrenching scenes like this:

Wayne Eng at the Underground's Corporate Ideation Center

Yes, that’s Frequent Underground Character & Local Guide Wayne Eng crashing at the Trout Underground’s/Man Cave Official Corporate Ideation Center, where he napped (untroubled by killer Chipmunks) until it was time to eat.

The Underground Escapes

With so many fly fishermen apparently enjoying the Upper Sacramento, I’m heading off Sunday to a small stream in the area, hoping to escape some of the crowds.

It’s a gamble; it only takes one or two good (or clumsy) anglers to pretty much chew up a small stream for those who follow, and I tend to stay away from that kind of water on the weekends.

But damnit, there’s fish to be caught. And this time, I’m taking the camera.

The Wading Boot Testing Continues

And don’t think we’ve forgotten our wading boot tests – especially now that Korker has thrown its boots into the fray. They sent along a pair of wading boots and many, many pairs of their interchangeable soles, and we’ll see what happens in light of the Underground’s somewhat unhappy experience with a pair of much older Korkers (I wasn’t thrilled with the ankle support, but these look sturdier).

See you (anywhere but) a small stream, Tom Chandler.

Wayne Eng about to land a trout (or, fly fishing another horrible place)

Sleep tight, Undergrounders.

Fly fishing the Upper Sacramento in late winter rain

Of  course, the “let’s go fly fishing while everyone’s eating chips and dip” thing isn’t exactly a secret, and in truth, you almost never see anyone on this river in winter anyway. Still, I like the feeling of putting one over on everyone else, even if that feeling is an illusion.

Mend, damnit; Wayne Eng on the Upper Sac, Super Bowl Edition

Wayne Eng and I shuttled one stretch of the river that Wayne’s wanted to fish for a month now; we dropped a car at the top of the run, drove to the bottom, and fished our way back. It’s gorgeous water, and though I’ve fished it all at one point or another, I hadn’t done so in exactly this order, and in a fit of self-definition, decided that made it a new trip for me (see, self-delusion can be fun).

The banks are largely bare of snow, and in fact, the temperature was a decidedly un-winter-ish 50s. (Sure, it’s pleasant now, but wait until next summer when wells are pumping air and rivers are slowing to trickles.)

In fact, I was pretty sure I erred in wearing my too-warm Patagonia soft shell – at least until I got on the river, where a steady wind was blowing and the section Bob Grace has named “The Icebox” lived up to its name. Turns out the soft shell was an inspired choice; I didn’t overheat even on the final speed hike the last quarter mile to the truck.

Maybe those clothing guys are onto something.

This was my 16" football; more fun than a pigskin, and great fins

The fishing wasn’t great, but that’s why you invite a guide to fly fish with you (a Free Fishing Tip from the Underground).

I shotgunned a few nice runs with a Beetle Bug and tiny Pheasant Tail-ish nymph combo, while Wayne got serious with a two-nymph rig – which he was fishing on a no-name, very cheap, need-electrical-tape-to-hold-the-ferrules-together bamboo fly rod.

Wayne specializes in doing weird things to bargain tackle (the rod was $25; the reel cost him $2.50, but functioned like a reel costing twice as much), and in this case, it worked.

The no-name rod with the cheap ferrules and reel seat not only survived, it played the fish nicely.

Rare portrait of the artist nymphing (that's Wayne's rod, and this is Wayne's photo)

He hooked two trout, and I landed one that turned out to be a 16″ Upper Sacramento Rainbow with some of the longest, most elegant fins I’ve ever seen on a trout (and here I thought I fly fished for the scenery).

Natural variation is one of the unsung features of Mother Nature; you never know for sure what you’re going to find, see, hook or land, and when you no longer  care, then it’s time to find another sport.

Water and Wayne (I go all coffeehousey and artsy on you kids)

All in all, a successful Super Bowl Edition of the Trout Underground, even if I still couldn’t tell you who the quarterbacks were or recount the key plays at the water cooler, but then, I’ve put myself into a situation where I don’t have any of those nearby either.

The Details

For some reason, I keep shooting this picture over and over:

Bamboo grain apparently fascinates me; as do nice hollowbuilt quads)

I fished the Raine prototype 8.5′ 5/6wt, and I’m leaning towards deciding it’s a 6wt. Being as it’s a prototype, he’s making some changes to the taper, but while he’s futzing around with numbers and big machines, I’m happy to keep fishing the thing until it goes back to his shop for dissection.

Meanwhile, the Patagonia Sticky Rubber Wading Boot trials continued, this time on a more widely varied stretch of water than before. A post, my geary Undergrounders, is coming soon. Maybe one or two more trips.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.

Foiled again.

“Save yourself,” I mumbled. “Go on without me.”

“Get your ass up” he said. “We’re going fishing.”

And thus, a fly fishing trip was born.

In the afternoon light, Wayne's last trout - colorful to begin with - lit up (click the image for a 1440 x 900 pixel version)

With much of the country blanketed in sub-freezing temperatures, those living near Trout Underground/Man Cave World Headquarters have been enjoying unreasonably warm temperatures – some days approaching 60 degrees. (Coincidence? I think not.)

While we could damn sure use some snow, I’ll probably find myself laboring behind Satan’s Snowblower soon enough, so in the spirit of opportunists everywhere, you go fly fishing while the fly fishing’s good.

Wayne and I ended up on a good dry fly stretch of the river, where Wayne personally witnessed a decent BWO hatch – and yes, rising trout – only a couple days before.

Wayne Eng fly fishing away. It’s been warm, but some snow remains.

Observations like that excite me; some people crave powerful illegal drugs, others accumulate power and expensive cars, but I’ve got a thing for rising trout. Sadly, the universe knows this, so while conditions were almost identical to a couple days ago – and the weather had been stable – the BWOs didn’t show, and neither did any rising trout.

Sometimes, the Universe sucks.

Still, the low-on-the-horizon light was gorgeous, and anyone who can’t embrace the reality of fly fishing in winter – wearing only two thin layers – needs more help than this site can provide (“lie down on the couch, and tell me about your fishing childhood…”).

Without risers, Wayne and I plugged away for a while, then headed downriver a bit, where I fired up the Pentax Optio digital and Wayne went nymphing.

A half hour netted him two fish – the biggest a chunky 14″ Upper Sac Rainbow, complete with color.

See? The rainbow trout just went pure color in the late afternoon light.

I popped a few more frames, tied on a woolly bugger, and we headed back upriver, where I quickly caught a wide-shouldered 15″ rainbow, and Wayne proceeded to get three more from an upriver run – two of which were gloriously colored in the golden afternoon sun (it was a daylong “Magic Hour” out there).

Earlier in the day, we’d stumbled Ted Fay Fly Shop owner Bob Grace, who pretty much confirmed what we’d discovered – the fish really hadn’t turned on until mid-afternoon.

A rare Bob Grace sighting (at least when he’s not behind the counter at the Ted Fay Fly Shop).

It was bracing to catch trout in that final flurry, but the old say about “it was just great to get out on the river” was true. I won’t pretend it’s been a hard winter (so far), but cold is cold, and the warm sun not only contributed Vitamin D by the truckload, it just plain felt good on bodies used to being swaddled in layers of fleece.

The river doesn’t wash away all our sins, but water’s a solvent after all, and any time spent in moving water lightens the load in some small way.

The Pesky Details

The day was a study in contrasts; Wayne strung up one of the best fly rods of all time – the Sage 389LL. And while I wanted to believe I’d hit a BWO hatch (I had a glass 5wt in the truck if I did), I pulled my Orvis 9′ 6wt Zero Gravity streamer rod out of the tube, and after fruitlessly casting a dry for an hour, ended up tying on a streamer anyway (the Underground’s streamer fly rod mantra: Longer, Stronger, Warrantied).

My ongoing review of Patagonia’s Insulator soft shell remains stalled; it wasn’t cold enough to wear the thing, much less the Micro-Puff insulated jacket still hanging in the Trout Underground/Man Cave.

The Patagonia “Sticky Rubber” wading shoes did get another workout, and while the jury’s not wholly in, I remain pleasantly surprised by the results. I would have told you an un-studded rubber sole wouldn’t function on the Upper Sacramento, but so far, the results are pretty good.

They don’t grip as well as studded felts, but my feeling is they’re better than the Weinbrenner studded rubber soles – and absolute dynamite on dry rocks, where studded felt can get downright dangerous.

So far, so good – Patagonia’s “Sticky Rubber” wading boots are light, comfy, protective and grippy. More to come.

Lightweight yet supportive, I am willing to say the Patagonia Riverwalkers would make an excellent hike-to-fly-fish-a-small-stream boots, but more testing is needed on the big river.

Plus, with Simms, Patagonia and Cloudveil all planning to release new Vibram rubber sticky soles soon (with very different sole patterns), the rubber-soled wading boot will evolve yet again.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.

Wayne Eng, the Upper Sacramento River, and snow.

Report to follow. (Click here to see a 1440 pixel version.)