It’s the best time of year for catching rainbow trout. I fish the lower Sac pretty often, and this time of year there’s a long dinner hour starting just at sunset. Flows are often 10,000 to 15,000 feet per second, and this flow makes the whole river fish differently than at low flows.
I take the rod off the wall rack — it hangs just above the patio door — and grab the keys. A quick stop to get the labs. They virtually fly down to the boat and jump on, looking back at me as if to say; come on, dad, hurry up!
I start the motor and get out in the current. One hundred four degrees on shore, it immediately feels like 70 degrees. On the way back, it will feel like 50. I idle on down to the secret fishing hole. The dogs whine when we get to the right riffle, and I toss the anchor.
I sit down and retie. I always retie before casting. The dogs try to help me with the knots. Nothing hatching yet. But I know what’s coming. Say what you want, the lower Sac is a caddis river, so I use the same flies I used last night. The dry fly, a number fourteen elk hair bleached white, goes on first. Next comes five X tippet to a bead head bird’s nest number sixteen… Twenty inches is the right length for the dropper at this river flow.
I really like to cast to rising fish. What happens during the hatch is those little bugs that you find clinging to the undersurface of rocks decide to swim to the surface, break the surface tension, and fly off to rendezvous on a riverside bush and do their mating thing. The fish know this is coming, and it’s their best opportunity to eat these bugs.
The general idea is to try and make the artificial flies look and behave like their natural counterpart. Most of the time this really makes a difference whether you catch something. Sometimes they will hit just about anything.
Anyway, the fish often hold even with the current, waiting by experience in the best spot so the river brings the bugs to them. If you watch closely, you can see the same fish sipping the bugs in the same spot, over and over through the entire hatch. The idea is to maneuver the flies through this feeding lie and you are off to the races.
This rise is happening now, and I scope out a fish I can get the fly to. When I do it right, I usually know if I have the correct fly on the first cast. They either want it, or they don’t. The fish eats the wet fly, and line races off the reel. In this current, and fishing five X, you have to give them their head at first. The first run is usually when you can tell if you have a big one. It’s easy to feel the tail swings in the current, and the big ones have long, low-frequency tail swings.
This fish is a small one with lots of energy. It jumps three or four times… the little ones always jump. This, of course, has both dogs up and interested, and when I get the fish close, the black lab just can’t hold back. She still hasn’t realized, after five years, that she is a bird dog, not a fish retriever. I manage to keep her from getting hooked, and she holds herself in the current and waits for me to net the fish. She has no trouble keeping even with the boat, a feat I consider amazing. After I release the fish she comes over to the swim board and waits for me to pull her up.
I see a big one rising about 30 feet downstream and let out more anchor line. He is holding just in the line between fast and slower water, about 3feet behind a big, submerged rock. After watching a few rises I see he is eating dry flies. And it looks like what fly fisherman call a “toilet flush,” since the fish is so big that when it turns to eat the flies there is a really big swirl.
I watch a little longer. I can see the white inside of his mouth as he eats the bugs, and sometimes I see his back. I cut off the dropper and retie my elk hair. He is 30 feet toward shore, so I can make an easy cast for a drag-free float. I lay in a perfect one, and he eats on the first swing. We’re off to the races.
The best part is that fishing is great with or without fish. With the sun off the water, everything comes out to play… the geese, ducks, beavers and sometimes the otters too, though you see a lot more of these just before sunrise. Raccoons run the bank, and the deer come out to browse.
This fish takes me well into the backing, at least 30 yards. Sometimes I have to pull the anchor and follow to get the line back, but this time I can net him from a dead boat. After a few minutes my forearms are cramping, in a good-fishing way. No jumps from this fish, just long, slow, powerful tail swings. He takes another long run when he first sees the boat. Finally, he comes up to the surface, the signal that it’s time to land him.
The dogs are tired of swimming, so they just watch as I slip his head into the net. The barbless hook comes out easily, and in the fading light I admire the prettiest thing in Redding, just for a moment. Trout don’t tolerate being out of the water, so I get him back in right away. A flip and he is gone, and I rinse a little mucous off my hands.
The memory of those colors stays with you. And I never forget how lucky I am to be able to do this. It’s a Redding miracle; the clear, cold river running right through town is full of fish. If you can put up with the frustration of learning to cast, once you get the hang of it you are just a pair of waders away from doing it. Right at the rodeo posse grounds is a fabulous spot.
Want to get started? The local fly shop is a great resource of equipment and instruction. And, though some of the gear can be costly, it’s possible to purchase high quality gear without spending a lot. Mail order catalogs have it too. If you can swing it, a guide really helps at first. The other great news about this sport is that without a doubt we are living at the center of a 60-mile hub of the finest rainbow trout fishing in the lower 48. Upper Sac, Trinity, Fall, Pit and Klamath rivers. Hat creek, and lots of other creeks. The McCloud river strain of rainbow trout is the most common introduced trout species in the world. Redding is a trout fishing wonderland.
It’s near dark and the hatch has stopped. I bring in the anchor and motor the short distance home. The yellow lab waits in the boat, as if she isn’t ready to quit just yet. I’m pretty old now, so it’s time for bed. The last thing I remember before drifting off is a big toilet flush, over and over and me sneaking up with a dry fly. Better than any prescription.
Richard Malotky is a family practice physician and devoted outdoorsman who lives in Redding.
