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Oct 27-Oct 28, 2001 Upper Sac Lower Sac. Traditionally my season ends on the Upper Sac. For just as about as long as I have been flyfishing I have trekked up to Dunsmuir each year to throw a final cast before relegated to the winter haunts of Putah Creek, the Merced and Lower Stanislaus. The trips started simply enough with a novice's dreams to partake in the wonder that is the October Caddis hatch. It has evolved to a no expectations trip which usually results in fine dry and nymph fishing. That first year, Mike and I hit the hatch dead on. October Caddis imitations in hand, we fished as thousands of poorly navigating insects pelted our bodies. It was an amazing site, my first real hatch, thousands of inch long bugs flying downstream in unison through the dusk filled sky. We caught no fish. As the years drew on, we kept coming back. One year, bearing freezing rain and snow, we were rewarded with 4 fish. It was an epic trip. Mike and I dressed up as Michelin Men, the snow and ice crunched under our feet as we made our way up to the river. We learned to catch fish and not think about trying to time or match the hatch. Mike stopped going but I persevered, always managing to find someone willing to come along. One year it was Josh, his buddy and a guy from Berkeley, then it was Greg, Marlene and Vita, next it was Jeff and John, last year it was Gino. Good memories all. This year I ventured up alone. Josh and friend were supposed to meet me Saturday night at the camp ground but they didn't make it. Still jet lagged from my recent Europe trip, I drove up Saturday afternoon and decided that if I was going to be awake at 3AM, which had been the trend for the last week, I wanted to be awake in a warm bed with cable. A night at a motel was in order. I picked up the last room at the Cave Springs Motel and settled in. 3AM that morning I was wide awake, a good 4 hours before I could hope to fish anywhere. Fortunately, some guy on ESPN2 was doing just that... After breakfast I decided to fish in Dunsmuir City park. I'd never fished there before but a short scouting trip after breakfast revealed that it had promise. The city park area was somewhat typical of the river with short runs and pocket water. Highstick nymphing was perfected on this river and my strategy was to highstick a dry fly/ dropper rig through each likely holding lie. I tied the dropper to the eye of the dry fly with 18 inches of tippet. I hoped that a fly tied to the eye of the hook would hang straight down and allow me to fish deeper than if I had affixed the dropper to the bend of the hook. I worked in a zig zag motion, moving across the river, up and across again. The fishing was unremarkable, meaning that nothing remarkable happened, there is no one memory that stands out. It drizzled off and on as I fished but affected neither the fish nor me. It was simply meat and potatoes fly fishing. I managed to hook a fish or two with the first, 3rd or 6th drift through each hole as I moved up river. (Which in and of itself is remarkable.) I moved as fast as the slippery rocks and current would allow. Slipping and sliding more than usual. I blamed my newish wading boots but in truth, I just hadn't fished enough this season. All the fish landed where smallish- between 7 and 10 inches. What the river wouldn't give up in size it made up to me in numbers. This was my first fishing trip in almost 3 months, my 5th all year. I was elated. I was home. I realized that I had let far to many things interfere with my fishing this year. My fishing this year has been far from the every other weekend trips that were the norm a few years ago. I was reborn in the upper sac and regretted missing the majority of the season. Winter Pishing Trip plans had begun germinate in my head as I made my way to Soda Creek. "I
can fish Putah Creek this winter" I thought. The debate continued in my head. "Stoney Creek!
We've never had a weekend camping trip to Stoney Creek." I worked my way through the pocket water at Soda Creek. The fishing at Soda Creek was somewhat slower than at the City Park but the terrain made wading easier and thus I covered more water and picked up as many fish. The chattering inside my head took on a life of it's own. "You've
really neglected the Pish Page this year. It needs updating bad." And so a winter trip schedule began to take shape, inspired by a cold, grey day on the Upper Sacramento. Stay tuned. Previous Pish Page Chronicle Next Pish Page Chronicle Pish Page Index
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