California’s Trout Route: Highway 89

Maps have something magical about them: I trace a finger over the two-dimensional surface, and the abstract symbols below transform themselves into images of terrain, of horizons, and of memories. This is a reason why, perversely, the planning of a fishing trip can sometimes be as enjoyable – or at least as interesting – as the expedition itself. The savoring of anticipation, of remembrance, is an intrinsic part of the angling experience.

One of the trips that I keep meaning to take – but which so far I’ve experienced only by map and, in the field, in disconnected dribs and drabs – is a drive down the length of California’s State Route 89. This winding two ­lane highway cuts a long, jagged swath through the northeast section of the state (it looks sort of like the slash of Zorro after too much Sangria), and in so doing, intercepts many of the best trout waters found west of the Rockies. Indeed, the local cognoscenti might well claim these are some of the best trout waters west of the Atlantic high-tide line.

The road begins (assuming you’re traveling from north to south) at the southern edge of the Cascade Range, and ends – one national park, six national forests, and 361 miles later – just inside a wide and barren basin that stretches eastward into the shimmering wastes of neighboring Nevada. Punctuating the landscape between these two endpoints are the dormant volcanic cones of Mt.’s Shasta and Lassen, the vast and deeply blue expanse of Lake Tahoe, and the sharp granite peaks that form the abrupt eastern escarpment of the Sierra Nevada range.

Postcard country and great fishing, too. It’s like, totally awesome! It’s also like, totally fitting, that a California trouting expedition be anchored on one end by a desert reminding us that a basic and profound aridity shapes the natural (and political) environments throughout much of the West – and on the other end by Mt. Shasta, which in the best tradition of the state’s cultural infamy has become something of a New Age icon. (The stories currently bandied about by the bead-and-sandal crowd are that the mountain is some sort of spiritual power center, a locus for mysterious and mystical “higher” energies, even a landing base for alien spacecraft!)

Starting Out: The Upper Sacramento River

Despite potentially negative karmic influences, I would prefer to begin my Route 89 fishing trip on the upper Sacramento River near Mt. Shasta City. But, no can do. As we all know, a little more than a year ago, Southern Pacific managed to devastate – inadvertently or otherwise, I have no idea – an incredibly prolific and challenging trout fishery. The informed word is that the river may need eight or more years to recover its “blue ribbon” status. As a result. angling is not currently allowed on this stretch of the upper Sacramento.

Eight years is not necessarily a long time in the grand scheme of things. I just hope it’s worth the wait.

And if it is, I’d start fishing on a section known as the Cantera Loop (which is also where the SP spill occurred), at the end of Cantera Road and only a (very long) stone’s throw west of where Route 89 joins Interstate 5. Some of the best trout water on the river is located just below the Loop. Ironically, you can use the railroad tracks as your hiking trail.

What follows here is for future reference, obviously (but it’s also useful if you plan to fish other rivers in the region): The stream flow on the upper Sacramento is usually heavy and fast; a wading staff is needed to effectively cover the water without being swept away. The race of flow also means that high-stick nymphing is the standard technique employed by fly fisher people. A popular rig is a seven­ to ten-foot leader (3x or 4x tippet) with a short dropper attached 16 inches or so above the terminal fly. By dead-drifting two nymphs of different colors, shapes and/or sizes, an angler can quickly zero in on the imitation most preferred by the trout. The chance for a hookup is improved if you can maintain sufficient tension in the line to feel the terminal nymph ticking along the bottom. This also means that either the fly or the leader should be weighted.

The dropper system can likewise be applied with dry flies – a particularly effective tactic when fishing slower water or during periods when the trout are feeding (or can be tempted to feed) at the surface. Of course, stream conditions will dictate appropriate leader length and tippet diameter.

The late Ted Fay was an expert on fishing the upper Sacramento, and over the course of several decades he developed a number of unique and effective flies that have yet to be entirely supplanted by more modern creations. These days, the evolution of fly patterns is toward verisimilitude, which usually results in dainty little feathered things with tiny hooks. Ted Fay’s flies, conversely, seem prehistoric; they are thick and leaden and tend to bounce along the bottom of the river like water­ logged cigar butts. But they catch trout – large trout.  I’ve had good luck with them on big waters throughout the West. Fortunately for us, flies based on Ted Fay’s designs can still be bought from his shop at the Garden Motel, in Dunsmuir. It’s worth a stop.

So much for digressions. Since I can’t fish the upper Sacto, I’d start my Route 89 dream trip instead with the McCloud River.

The McCloud

The McCloud consists of two dis­tinct sections: the upper river, which is located above the McCloud Reservoir and is accessible from Route 89 via a number of unpaved, often rugged logging roads; and the lower river – below the reservoir, obviously – which is reached by 1) a fairly good dirt road – when dry – that leads off from the reservoir’s west side toward the Forest Service’s Ah-Di-Na campground, and 2) an unpaved road at the east side of the dam, which leads a short distance down to Ash Camp – and where, by the way, a footbridge crosses the river. Although the upper McCloud has excellent opportunities for fly fishing, serious anglers usually head first for the stretch below the dam, where the trout are wild and special protections exist to foster the native fishery. The river here runs through a steep, heavily wooded canyon that is, quite simply, beautiful.

Particularly in the autumn, when the oaks and such are turning color and when brown trout of as much as ten pounds are on their spawning run up from Lake Shasta. The water carries volcanic ash and glacial silt from Mount Shasta, and these suspended solids give the river a milky turquoise hue that contrasts well with the shadows and solemn greens and umbers of the surrounding forest.

The McCloud tends to give up its trout to nymphs rather than dry flies. Useful patterns for the former include stonefly imitations in sizes 8 through 12 and, during periods of mayfly activity, A.P.’s, P.T.’s, and Hare’s Ear’s. Mayfly nymphs should be sized to match the naturals, so pay attention to what’s drifting by in the current. Evenings are usually best for dry fly fishing.

October Caddis dries and nymphs are productive during autumn and can bring gigantic browns lunging to the surface. If the hatch is off, these browns are also susceptible to deeply dredged nymphs, and to streamers – matukas and Wooly Buggers, for example, fished on sinking and sink-tip lines.

For a long time, the McCloud area was the playground of millionaires. William Randolph Hearst maintained his expansive country manor, Wyntoon, on 67,000 acres of forest near the McCloud, and many miles of the river were owned by angling clubs that fastidiously guarded the sanctity of their property and angling rights. The fishing lost some of its shine, however, when Shasta Dam was completed in 1945, cutting the McCloud off from the salmon and steelhead runs that had annually spawned in the river. Over the next two decades, problems from poaching and siltation began to arise as road access into the area was gradually “improved” by loggers and dam builders.

By 1973, the deterioration of the native fishery had become so severe that the McCloud River Club decided to voluntarily donate half of its holdings – a half which equaled 6.5 miles of the river and 2,330 acres of adjacent water­shed – to The Nature Conservancy a non-profit organization that acquires and manages ecologically significant lands. This section of the river is located just below the Ah-Di-Na camp­ ground.·

The fishing regulations applied within the Conservancy’s McCloud River Preserve are notably strict: only artificial lures may be used, and all fish caught must be immediately released back to the river. In addition, the Con­servancy allows only ten anglers into the Preserve at any one time. Up to five spaces can be reserved each day through the Conservancy’s office in San Francisco (phone 415/777-0487), while the other five spaces are available to visiting fishermen on a first-come, first­ serve basis.

Between the Preserve and the dam upstream, anglers are still restricted to using artificial lures but may keep two trout a day. Despite the resulting harvest, however, the quality of the fishing is quite high. Or so I’ve been told; my luck on all parts of the McCloud has been spectacularly poor. But it is an alluring place to fish, and the lack of competing anglers is something that is rarely found on any stream of note.

The Upper McCloud

Compared to the lower river, the upper McCloud is relatively unknown to fly fishers, but it’s worth a visit if you’re in the area for two or three days. Although much of this water is stocked and, in addition, can be very low during drought/summer periods, you might try the river at Four-Mile Flat, Skunk Hollow, Bigelow Meadows, and Lakin Dam (also try the river at the bend near where it enters Lakin Lake). In addition, some of the McCloud’s best dry fly water is situated between the Lower Falls/Fowler Campground and Middle Falls. The fish are smallish but wild; expect to hike to find them – and to escape the bait fishermen.

The Lower Falls, Middle Falls, and Bigelow Meadows are accessed by the unpaved McCloud River Loop Road, which intersects Highway 89 approximately five and one-half miles east of the town of McCloud. Skunk Hollow and Four-Mile Flat are between 11 and 12 miles out of town, and reached by unmarked dirt roads that run southward from Highway 89.

For a real change of pace, try Bulls­ Eye Lake, which contains Arctic Gray­ling. It’s about 30 miles north of the highway and is reached via the Medi­cine Lake turnoff at Bartle (get a map before you go, though). Bullseye Lake is situated just a bit to the southeast of Medicine Lake, where camping is avail­able.

An option for small-stream angling near this part of Highway 89 is Bear Creek, about 20 miles or so east of McCloud, on the road to Ponderosa. Fish from the bridge downstream through the meadow. Many of the trout along this stretch have been hatchery-raised; if you fish to “fill the freezer,” please consider doing it with stocked trout from Bear Creek rather than the natives from the McCloud.

Hat Creek

Hat Creek is renowned among fly fishermen in California. Back in 1969, this wide and meandering spring creek became the first body of water in the state to be managed as a self-sustaining natural trout fishery. The resulting success of the Hat Creek project has since led the Department of Fish and Game to designate additional waters for wild trout management.

The 3.5 miles of regulated water run between Lake Britton and the Hat No. 2 Powerhouse, located a few minutes east of Route 89, on Route 299 near the town of Burney. Catch-and­ release angling is the rule; only artificial lures with barbless hooks may be used.

Unfortunately, it’s pretty much axiomatic that good fishing leads to notoriety, which leads to popularity, which leads to crowds. The two sights that greeted me when I first visited Hat Creek years ago were a parking lot over­ flowing with cars and, a short distance beyond, a mob of anglers waving their rods back and forth, back and forth as if a forest hit by some devil wind off Madison Avenue.

I was willing to turn the car around immediately. Luckily, my fishing partner argued persuasively against this rash decision, and through sheer force of logic (he had the keys), we stayed to check things out.

The huddle of guys in front of us were nymphing a stretch known as the ‘Powerhouse Riffles,’ which is one of the easier places on the special reg water to catch a trout. Below the riffles. however, the surface of the river smooths out like glass, and during our visit only a few anglers were fishing this slower water. Clearly, if we wanted relative solitude, this stretch was where to go. We hiked around a bend or two and found a pod of wild trout on a lazy, almost casual rise.

These fish were a challenge to catch, requiring fine leaders, a long drag-free float, and minuscule imitations. In short, it was the acme of dry­ fly fishing, and with no more than three other people in sight. Which on Hat Creek seems, surprisingly, to be the rule:  the majority of anglers shoulder together and shuffle around in the riffles, leaving the rest of the stream more or less untouched.

But hey, I’m not complaining!

Hatches occur on Hat Creek throughout the fishing season, but because of their complexity – several bugs may be coming off at the same time – and the fact that the trout seem to become inured to the usual imitations, you should visit the fly shops in the area to find out what patterns are hot, and when and how to fish them. (These retailers usually have up-to-the-minute expertise that cannot be replicated in articles such as this.)

If you plan to fish this autumn, expect to see intense hatches of baetis and Pale Morning Duns. Also, expect to see October Caddis flitting around; my experience, though, is that this insect is best imitated in its pupae stage rather than as a dry fly. Quarter the pupae downstream, let it swing through holding water and then quickly strip it in. This tactic brings violent strikes.

By the way, a small tip: if you don’t want to hang out with the gang at the riffles, and if you’re doing absolutely no good on the flat water, then try fishing the powerhouse outlet, just a short walk up from the parking lot. It’s not a pretty place, but you can usually catch a few fish – and massage your ego – by dredging nymphs (or even Glo Bugs!) along the walls or swinging streamers deep through the current.

You might also want to try the section of Hat Creek north of the High­way 299 bridge, and which is likewise part of the special reg water. Access to this stretch is best gained via a dirt road located a hundred yards or so west of the bridge, on the north side of the highway (look for the green gate). The water here tends to be characterized by riffles and is excellent for nymphing.

Aside from the crowds, other problems are facing the “blue ribbon” section of Hat Creek. Anyone who has fished it over the last several years has noticed that the quality of the fishery has declined. The trout seem fewer in number and, generally, smaller in size than a decade ago. The exact causes of this decline are still under debate – is it from poaching? fishing pressure? siltation? – so a solution is likely to be at least a few years away.

If Hat Creek isn’t producing for you, you might want to try some other nearby waters instead. The Pit River below Lake Britton is a challenging freestone stream – it’s tough to wade, or even walk along – that contains skyrocket ‘bows. Unless a hatch is occurring, high-stick nymphing is the most productive technique. Stonefly patterns – big, black, and heavy – work well throughout the season, as do other nymphs such as the Birds Nest, Hare’s Ear, Red Squirrel Nymph, and caddis pupae. Special regs apply to the stretch between Britton Dam and Powerhouse No. 3, which is also where some of the best fishing is found (and, despite this, extraordinarily few other anglers).

If you have a float tube or boat (or even if you have neither), check out Baum Lake. Although it’s very popular with the locals, this stillwater fishery offers native and stocked rainbows – all of which can be difficult to tempt with flies! Some of Baum Lake’s most challenging angling is found on the water that borders the north and east sides of the parking lot. Incidentally, winter can be a good time to visit Baum Lake – the crowds with their nightcrawlers and Power Bait are gone, and the trout are often feeding at the surface. Expect to fish midges during this season.

Two other places to catch primarily stocked trout – but with the chance for feisty native fish, too – is on Hat Creek at either the Cassel Forebay (at the postage stamp-size town of Cassel) or along the stretch that parallels Highway 89 between Cassel Road and Mount Lassen.

Fall River

About 20 minutes further east of Burney, also on Route 299, is the Fall River, which flows as slow and smoothly as Hat Creek but is deeper and wider and seemingly much, much richer in aquatic life and large trout. The Fall River valley, too, is notably picturesque, consisting primarily of rice fields, cattle ranches, and small rustic homesteads, all framed by forested hills and, to the northwest, by the glacier­ capped hulk of Mt. Shasta. Best of all, though, is a set of regulations that protect the trophy trout fishery by restricting much of the river to limited­ take, artificial lure angling.

The only snake in this idyllic setting is that a boat is necessary if you want to fish the Fall River with any degree of effectiveness. The channel is too deep to wade, and nearly every inch of riverfront land is fenced and posted against shore-bound angles.

As a partial remedy to these constraints, California Trout purchased a five-acre parcel to provide limited access to the river (limited in the sense that only ten or so vehicles can squeeze into CalTrout’s dinky parking lot). Of course, there’s still the need for a boat as a citified apartment dweller with no storage space, I solve this problem by periodically shelling out cash and hiring a guide. Another option is to rent a boat either from Rick’s Lodge (which has a great little bar, by the way) or from the Fly Shop in Redding, which maintains a put-in on the river. [Editor’s note: The Fly Shop now has a for-rent home on the Fall River, check their advertisement for details.]

As far as I am concerned, the Fall River is a must-visit. And it isn’t really extraordinarily tough to fish. Although long, fine leaders – 16 feet in length with 7x tippets – are the norm when using dry flies on the Fall, a drag-free drift is easy to achieve from a boat and requires minimal casting skills. All that’s needed is to quarter the cast downstream (pulling the fly back into a feeding lane if the cast is inadvertently too long), maybe toss an upstream mend or two, and then, using the rod’s tip, continuously flip out the line so that the fly drifts along at the speed of the river.

Simple!

Roughly the same technique is used when fishing nymphs, the major exception being that the angler is watching a cork strike indicator rather than a dry fly. This “bobber” system performs two functions: it shows when a fish hits, and it also holds the nymph (plus a micro split shot) above the weeds. A variation that requires almost zero skill is to quarter the cast down­ stream and then do nothing more than let drag sweep the nymph across the current; this is especially effective when fishing Zug Bugs and other imi­tations of caddis pupae. Two special times to visit the Fall River are in late autumn, when the trout are stoking up for the winter, and in June, when the Hex hatch occurs. For those of you who’ve never had the opportunity to fish this latter hatch it’s perhaps important to point out that Hexegenia limbata are yellow mayflies that are imitated using #6 hooks.  In other words, these are big, meaty bugs, sort of the trout’s equivalent of prime rib. They hatch only at dusk, and only for a few weeks each year, and have gotta be seen to be believed.

Manzanita Lake

About 45 minutes south of Burnery (less if you drive real fast), on Route 89, is Lassen Volcanic National Park. Here, almost in the shadows of the volcano itself, sits Manzanita Lake. Although relatively small, Manzanita is a very pretty body of water, and it contains some very big trout. The first time I fished this lake my Wooly Bugger was hit so hard that the rod slammed down into the water as if hooked to a sub­marine. After a brief screaming run, the unseen leviathan broke off, leaving me gasping in shock at the violence of the strike. Not the sort of fishing needed if you have cardiac problems.

Although a pram or float tube would be useful on Manzanita, neither are necessary, as decent (albeit limited) fishing is available from shore. One of my favorite spots, in fact, is at the point of land on the east bank, where a creek feeds into the lake. Trout are usually patrolling near the mouth of this creek, and though the Park regulations require that anglers stay a certain number of feet away from it, the fish will often be roaming around the general vicinity – quite close to shore, too – in their search for food.

Incidentally, the reason why the creek and its mouth are off limits to fishing is that the State and the National Park Service are trying to create a self-sustaining rainbow trout population in Manzanita Lake, and this creek is the only place where spawning can occur. It’s still not clear if this goal can indeed be met. To help nature along, though, fishing is limited to the use of artificial lures, and special restric­tions apply to the number and size of trout that can be taken from the water.

My pencil follows a thin black line on a map: Route 89, curling southward over the slopes of Mt. Lassen and, in the process, crossing several small streams that eventually merge to become Hat Creek. After skirting the summit, the highway descends and, within a short distance, leaves the Cas­cades and enters the Sierra Nevada …

Our journey down Route 89 continues in the next issue of Cailforn1a Fly Fisher. Read about little-known waters near Lake Almanor; The secrets of the Father; Tahoe options besides Martis, Milton, and the Truckee; Cutthroats in Markleville; And More!