When the searing heat of a typical Northern California summer registers somewhere between Holy cow! and How many zeros are in a million degrees? the temperate McCloud River canyon becomes an especially inviting place to visit. Compared with other fisheries, abundant shade and plenty of deep, cool water create a natural oasis, a sanctuary that takes some of the edge off the afternoon sizzle.
But while the river looks the same when temperatures soar, there are subtle changes taking place in the habitat that affect where to find trout, because the trout are also trying to beat the heat. Just as humans have to adapt to unusually hot, sunny conditions, so do the trout. In fact, salmonids are often much more stressed than humans during really hot weather, sometimes affecting even their ability to survive.
One reason the McCloud below the McCloud Dam is an excellent choice for fishing when it’s really hot out is because water temperatures never get close to the threshold where trout mortality becomes an issue. Another reason is that the anglers on this stretch, mostly fly fishers, treat the trout well. I’ve never seen anyone kill a fish there. It’s kind of a shrine. Barbless artificial lures or flies are the way to go; bait is not allowed.
Fishing Deep
The colder the water, the better its ability to carry dissolved oxygen and the better that trout can handle angling pressure. On a hot day, the fish often seek deeper water or simply hold deeper in the water column, looking for comfort and food while avoiding sunlight that cleaves the water like a laser. A proven technique is fishing weighted or beadhead nymphs either under a floating strike indicator or (my preferred method when practical) high-stick nymphing without an indicator, relying on watching the end of your fly line to pick up strikes. In a day of fishing, I go back and forth between the two approaches.
If I can get within about 15 feet of the hole I want to fish, I take the indicator off and start adding split shot until I think my nymphs are getting deep enough quickly enough. Of course, this often requires vigorous wading in order to move close enough to the better spots. The main advantage to this indicatorless approach when fishing deep is that you don’t have to worry that you may be adding so much weight that you’ll sink your strike indicator. In other words, you can fish really deep. One reason more anglers aren’t more successful with nymph fishing is they are not fishing deep enough. The trick to picking up strikes without a floating strike indicator is the way you hold and move the rod. First, feel free to slam your flies into the water. This is not like fishing tiny dry flies on a spring creek. Drive your nymphs down into the water so they will get deep quickly and spend the maximum time in the fish’s feeding zone. Now lift your rod until the end of your fly line is at the surface of the water. The line will bow slightly from the end of your rod down to the water, and you want to move your rod downstream slightly more slowly than the current. It will seem like you’re almost pulling on your nymphs, but all you’re really doing is keeping the line tight enough so you can see strikes.
A rookie mistake that anglers new to nymphing often make is always expecting to feel the strike. Unless you are fishing with your line tight, something that is too rarely done in nymphing for trout in moving water, most of your strikes are likely to be when your flies are dead drifting. You are much more likely to see something as opposed to feeling something. When you do . . . set the hook!
If you know you’re fishing really deep water and your nymph is nowhere near the bottom as you fish, when you see your line to twitch, stop moving, change directions — when you see it do almost anything at all — set the hook! Strikes may be obvious or very subtle, but in really deep water, they tend to be the latter. A fish grabbing your fly from underneath is not likely to move your line much or pull down a strike indicator . . . so set the hook!
At the bottom of your drift, there comes a point where you must stop your rod and let your nymphs swing up to the surface. Picking up strikes at this point is easy, because your line is tight and now you likely will feel the fish.
If you never set the hook, you will almost never hook a trout. They rarely hook themselves, and with barbless hooks, their chances of shaking loose increase. Anglers often tell me they don’t set the hook because, well, the last 10 times they did it wasn’t a trout, so this one must not be, either. The fact is, most of us couldn’t tell a trout from a rock or a stick or anything else. The only way you know for sure it wasn’t a trout is to . . . set the hook! An experienced nymph angler will set the hook on almost every cast.
The Bubbles
When the air temperature is comfortable for humans (say in the 80s), oxygen in the stream is fairly abundant, and trout are typically spread around in riffles, runs, and pools. I’ve done a fair amount of snorkeling in Northern California trout streams, and when the air temperature gets into the triple digits I’ve witnessed trout abandoning their regular haunts to take refuge in the better-oxygenated areas of the stream.
When it gets really hot out, anglers hardly ever question their own ability to breathe. Why should they? But air and water are mainly nitrogen and oxygen, and both become less dense as the temperature climbs. Humans have a higher tolerance for reduced oxygen than trout do. But even if it were possible to run marathons in the hot, thin air of Death Valley in the summertime, it would be a dangerous thing to try. Ridiculous though it may sound, this is what trout experience when hooked in water approaching 70 degrees. The McCloud never comes anywhere near this temperature threshold.
On really hot afternoons, fish often stack up wherever the stream is producing bubbles — a mechanism for mixing oxygen into water. Great areas to fish under such circumstances are situated between the McCloud Dam and Ash Camp, any white water you see, and riffles, especially where they plunge into deep pools.
Ash Camp to the Dam
The stretch from Ash Camp upstream to the dam is excellent fishing water, but probably better left for younger, fitter anglers. Don’t even consider fishing the McCloud unless you can easily identify poison oak. It’s everywhere. Though I’ve never heard of anyone getting bitten by a snake on the McCloud, it is also about the most likely place I know for running into rattlesnakes. I’ve been seeing the same rattlesnake (I think) under the Pacific Crest Trail bridge at Ash Camp for years. Watch where you step, because they don’t necessarily rattle, apparently hoping you just won’t see them and will keep on walking.
Even though the McCloud isn’t a tremendously huge trout stream, you generally can’t just wade across the river wherever you want. It’s too deep. When fishing from Ash Camp up to the dam (about a mile), you should pick one side of the river to fish and stick with it. Even this will require a large amount of scrambling up and over and around rock outcroppings to drop back down to the stream, and it isn’t for the faint of heart.
You can also park at Ash Camp, cross over the PCT bridge, and hike downstream at least a mile before you start noticing offshoot trails leading down to the river. One of the truly great things about the McCloud is that it’s been a famous trout stream for more than a century. If there is a path down to the water, it likely means that thousands of anglers before you have found a worthwhile place to fish. To get to the dam at the bottom of Lake McCloud, turn south off Highway 89 on Wyntoon Way in the town of McCloud. Follow the signs to the lake and keep driving past the boat-launch ramp. The road follows the shoreline of the lake and eventually goes over the top of McCloud Dam. Once across the dam, you have to turn either right or left. Turn right, and the road will descend toward the river. The turnoff for Ash Camp can be hard to spot. It’s a steep dirt road off to the right about a mile below the dam. Once down there you will see other cars, campers, and some very sexy water.
Ah-Di-Na and the Conservancy
Ah-Di-Na Campground is a mile or two below Ash Camp, but you have to take a slightly different way in to drive there. Come in Wyntoon Way as if you were going to Ash Camp. Well before the dam there will come a point where the road will almost make a U-turn at the end of a long bay. At the apex of that turn is a sign for Ah-Di-Na Campground. Turn right onto the dirt road, and about eight bumpy miles later you will arrive at the campground and The Nature Conservancy property just below it.
It is a fairly large campground very popular with anglers and an excellent place either to camp while you’re there or to park while you fish. Like most of the McCloud, there is a variety of different water types in an area renowned for great fishing. I’m always surprised to see waders hanging from nails in almost every campsite and fly rods leaning here and there, yet very few anglers in the water.
From Ah-Di-Na, you can fish up to Ash Camp or down to The Nature Conservancy property. Once you get to The Nature Conservancy, you will have to turn around unless you have a reservation or happen to hike in to the cabin and see there is an available slot. The Nature Conservancy owns about three miles of the river and maintains it as a wild-trout sanctuary and for ecological research. Every day of the trout season (the last Saturday in April through November 15) there are 10 fishing slots available on The Nature Conservancy water. Five are by “reservation only” (call [415] 777-0487 for a free reservation) and the other 5 are for “walk-ins” on a first-come, first-served basis. If you get there and all the slots are taken, the water immediately above The Nature Conservancy is excellent, as well.
Hot-Weather Strategies
Forget waders. Wet wading the McCloud on a hot day is heavenly. Bring a wading staff, a hat with a brim, polarized sunglasses, plenty of sunscreen, and about twice as much water as you think you can drink. Figure on drinking a bottle of water every hour, at least.
Start early. It’s a great idea to drive in to Ash Camp or Ah-Di-Na the night before and set up camp. The most pleasant and productive strategy is to fish hard in the morning until you wear yourself out. Then go back to camp, grab a shady nap and an early supper, and then head back out to fish until dark. That way, you’re avoiding fishing during the hottest hours of the day and taking good care of yourself, as well.
During the hours of direct sunlight, the most productive method is nymphing with one or two nymphs. When it’s hot, I like to play fish as quickly as possible, so I spring for the more expensive spool of 4X fluorocarbon to use as tippet (it is stronger than monofilament). One nice thing about the McCloud is that fish seldom get too selective as to which nymphs you use, as long as they are fished well. The river has all four types of aquatic insects, so trout see mayflies, caddisflies, stoneflies, and midges nearly every day. Any reasonable imitation of any of these will often entice strikes.
A few good nymph choices for summer fishing on the McCloud include Mercer’s Biot Epoxy Golden Stone (size 10), Hart’s Dark Lord (size 10), Beadhead Pheasant Tail Nymphs (size 14 and 16) and brown or black Bird’s Nest Nymphs (size 12 to 16). The fish really aren’t that fussy in the heat. If they’re eating, they’ll take a variety of nymphs. If they’re not eating, you might have to tie on dynamite. I favor longer, lighter rods, especially for nymphing. A favorite for this purpose is my 10-foot 3-weight, but any rods in the 8-to-9-foot range for 3-weight to 6-weight lines will work well enough.
Evenings always hold the prospect for potential dry-fly fishing. The hotter the day, the smaller the window during which there are likely to be rising fish, but every day is different. A good rig for dry fly-fishing is a 9-foot leader tapered to 5X. During the hotter months, a size 16 Parachute Adams is an excellent choice and will take f ish as well as anything. Make sure you bring a headlamp with you for the hike back to camp.
Streamers Aren’t Just for Browns
When I first started fishing the McCloud, I hauled out my 6-weight and sink-tip lines only for angling for spawning browns in the fall. Then once, just for the heck of it, I tried the same strategy in May, and guess what? It seems rainbows love to gobble streamers, too. This is one of those odd tactics you might try just for fun, but it can be more effective than you think. In the autumn I tend to use light-colored Zonkers or other small streamers designed to look like a threadfin shad. However, experience has shown that almost any streamer, even the ubiquitous black Woolly Bugger, size 8 to 10, will work pretty well.
Target the deep pools for this fishing. Toss your streamer slightly upstream and as close to the other side of the stream as you can manage. Track your streamer with the rod, giving it time to sink, then, when your line is quartering downstream, touch your rod tip to the water and start a strip-strip-strip-pause retrieve. Hang on. Strikes will be obvious.
Hatching a Siesta
When the heat rises, fish usually don’t. Extreme summer heat can put a damper on insect hatching activity, which is why you probably won’t see many rise forms at the surface. Everything in a trout stream maintains a delicate balance, and aquatic insects (what most trout eat) are included. With a few exceptions (usually the largest varieties, such as Salmon Flies and the big Hexagenia mayflies), many stream born insects have more or less a one-year life cycle. Insects hatching on the McCloud River today may have been born around this same time last year. As wondrously precise as all that sounds, factors such as excessive heat can screw things up a little.
Maybe the predecessor of a mayfly hatched a year ago on a bluebird day with temperatures in the mid-80s and was lucky enough not to be eaten by a rising trout. Today, its offspring is an adult ready to emerge, mate, molt, and lay its own eggs, but it’s 100 degrees outside. The hatch probably is going to be delayed until conditions improve — often until the sun is off the water and temperatures move into a more favorable range. That’s why during long periods of hot weather (common in July, August, and September) it almost appears to anglers that no bugs are hatching. They actually are hatching, but under cover of darkness, when the fish are gorging and anglers are either snoring or guzzling.
Although in Shasta County you’re legally allowed to fish for trout only up to one hour past sundown, chances are good that the bugs won’t start moving around until the wee hours of the morning. There’s not much anyone can do about that. But during the hottest hours of the afternoon, when bugs are at the low ebb of their cycle, you can do something good for yourself. Grab a snooze. Taking a good siesta when the temperatures are high is not only a delightful experience, but you’ll be in better shape to fish both early and late.
