Name a great spot to target trout with flies, a spot known for producing both numbers of trout and trophy caliber trout in excess of five pounds. What springs to mind? Pyramid Lake, Eagle Lake, Lake Davis maybe? Those are all great destinations for trout anglers, but if you are like the vast majority of California fly fishers, you are overlooking some of the best fly waters in the state, and these waters are right under your nose. Better still, these destinations are at their best during the colder months, when many of our much-heralded high-country haunts become hard to reach and fish. Finally, these waters offer easy access, and you’ll likely find one of them near your home. Sounds pretty good, right?
I’m going to tell you all about the waters I just teased and how to fish them, but first, I want to tell you a little about myself — not to honk my own horn, but rather to give you something in the way of my credentials, since I’m going to point you in a direction seldom traveled by rank-and-file flyrodders.
My name is Cal Kellogg, it says so right up there under the title. If my name rings a bell, it’s likely because I’ve written millions of published words about fishing for trout and other species with standard gear over the past 20 years. Trout to tuna, freshwater and salt, I’ve done it all, and I’ve written about it.
With all those gear-fishing articles published, most folks are surprised to learn I’m an avid fly angler. In fact, I spent my late teens and twenties fishing almost exclusively with fly gear, and during my college years, one of my primary sources of income came from tying custom trout and steelhead flies, more than fifty thousand flies in total.
These days, among other things, I’m a trout-fishing guide. This past fall, winter, and spring, I fished nearly every day for seven months and put my clients on thousands of trout and more 3-plus-pound rainbows than I can recall. The biggest client-caught trout of the year was a massive 13-pound beast.
Where and how did we catch all these trout? We caught them at foothill and valley reservoirs. And a big percentage of the trout and nearly all the trophy trout were caught on flies.
My clients know me from my body of published work, and they are mostly gear anglers. These folks are comfortable with spinning rods and trolling rigs, and few of them have any fly-fishing experience. However, nothing we did this past season couldn’t have been done with fly gear, and truth be told, a fly rod could have done the job better in many instances. What’s ironic is that I saw no more than a handful of traditional fly anglers the entire season, and I’m on the water a lot. When it comes to trout fishing, most fly anglers simply do not see valley and foothill reservoirs as a viable option, but if you are one of those folks, you are making a huge mistake.
Let’s consider the virtues of these reservoirs. First and foremost, these lakes, be they big impoundments such as Folsom, New Melones, Shasta, or Camanche, or smaller reservoirs such as Collins, Amador, or Tulloch, boast huge trout populations that peak in terms of numbers in the late winter and early spring. Northern California’s lowland reservoirs are heavily planted, and many of them also boast a robust population of holdover rainbows. Some lakes are planted by both the California Department of Fish and Wildlife and private agencies, and others, such as Lake Amador, get all their fish from private hatcheries. Trout plants typically start in the fall, as soon as the surface temperature drops into the middle 60s, and they continue right through the following spring, when the surface temperatures once again climb into the 60s.
In terms of forage, most NorCal reservoirs have strong threadfin shad populations, and some have Japanese pond smelt. Others, such as Folsom, boast both shad and smelt. In the deeper, cooler reservoirs, planted trout avoid anglers, dial into the abundant forage base, drop into deep water during the hot summer months, and show up again the following winter as sleek holdovers, looking and fighting a lot like steelhead.
The forage in the reservoirs and the character of the trout being targeted give important clues to the angler, whether fishing with traditional gear or fly tackle. Let’s begin, though, by looking at how the traditional-tackle crowd targets reservoir trout.
These lakes attract both boat and bank anglers. Boaters spend most of their time trolling. They mainly pull a combination of baitfish imitations and “reaction baits” in the form of spoons, plugs, and spinners. This approach makes sense and is effective. Holdovers and recently planted fish that are dialing into the forage base are looking to feed on baitfish, so metallic or dark-over-light baitfish imitations in the form of spoons or small minnow plugs are the way that conventional-tackle anglers go.
However, freshly planted rainbows have yet to learn that baitfish are good to eat and will strike out of hunger or curiosity. Sure, they are caught on baitfish imitations, but they are also willing to hit brightly colored conventional-tackle offerings such as soft plastic grubs and noisy inline spinners. Bank anglers rely heavily on soaking dough baits, but there is an enterprising core of guys who hike and fan cast with chunky spoons and spinners, exploring areas such as points, shallow flats, deep drop-offs, bottlenecks, and any type of feature that serves to concentrate trout.
So why do I prefer to fish these waters with flies? It’s because I don’t play follow the leader, and that is the number-one lesson I teach my clients. Trout that are willing to strike baitfish imitations and reaction baits are begging for a well-presented fly, and flies are something they rarely, if ever encounter. Think about it. How often has a big, experienced Folsom Lake holdover or even a planter rainbow that’s been in the lake several days encountered a Rapala or a Kastmaster? Every day? All day long? I’d much rather offer the trout something novel, rather than something they’ve seen before.
There’s a good reason for this. We know from research done by the scientists at Berkley (the lure-and-bait people) that when a game fish hits a specific lure and is not hooked, it determines that it isn’t something to eat, and it will identify the lure as a nonforage item for up to six months and refrain from striking it again. This research presents a strong case for presenting game fish with a novel offering whenever possible, and it dovetails with my field experience.
Now I know you’re thinking, “What about trout that are selectively feeding? They are dialed into one insect and will hit nothing else.” Selectively feeding trout targeting specific insects are an exception to the data recorded by Berkley’s scientists, but that’s not a situation we encounter on NorCal reservoirs. Reservoir rainbows have more in common with coastal king salmon than they do with trout living in a “traditional” trout environment. Reservoir rainbows, once acclimated, are open-water predators that live by stalking schools of baitfish, not waiting for insects to hatch.
Reservoir Trout and Fly Tackle
If you invest a little time in learning the ropes, you’ll likely catch more and bigger trout at NorCal reservoirs than the traditional-tackle anglers, whether fishing from a watercraft or from the bank, simply because you’ll be using more effective offerings and presentations.
Beyond using the same lures day in, day out, a major mistake I see boaters make while fishing reservoirs during the cold months is fishing too deep. Most trout trollers have downriggers, and they are determined to use them to get their lures down deep. The trout they mark on their sonar units holding 30 to 40 feet deep confirm their strategy. The problem is that the trout they are marking in deep water are often inactive. They’ve fed and have retreated to the safety of deep water. If the surface temperature is 65 degrees or below, the active trout will be in the top 12 feet of the water column, and if there is chop on the surface, there will be rainbows cruising right under it.
Rainbows are stream fish. They are hardwired to feed near the surface and to feed looking up. They want to spot prey above them, move up, grab it, and drop back down. This puts the trout in the crosshairs of the fly angler. I spent the entire fall, winter, and spring targeting trout cruising the top 10 feet of the water column. I have downriggers, but I rarely used them, because I knew the active trout would be up near the surface.

In terms of gear, you need a rod and reel with some horsepower. Whether you’ll be hiking the bank or fishing from a small boat, kayak, or even a float tube, you’ll want a stout 9-foot rod rated for a 7-weight or 8-weight line, and you’ll want a reel spooled with a fast-sinking line. The goal is to hook big rainbows, so you want a rod that will handle a 10-plus-pound fish, and much of the time, you’ll be casting medium to large streamer flies.
You don’t need a long leader. A 6-to-8-foot fluorocarbon leader tapering down to 10-pound test is ideal. Reservoir trout won’t take much notice of your fly line. You don’t always need a fluorocarbon leader, but since there’s no way to tell when you’ll need reduced visibility, it makes sense to go with fluoro all the time.
If you’ll be fishing out of a watercraft, it makes sense to split your time between trolling and casting. When trolling, you don’t want to proceed in a straight line at a steady speed. Think erratic action. You want the fly to stop and start, drop and rise. To achieve this, continually vary your speed and use the rod to punctuate the presentation with plenty of twitches and tugs.
The temperament of the trout can change from day to day or at times from hour to hour. You’ve got to “take their temperature” constantly. Are they aggressive, or somewhat passive? Begin with some assertive manipulations of the fly, and then experiment with more subtle movements. The rainbows will tell you what they want. Early in the morning, often a good strategy is to fish shallow and assertively puppeteer the fly. When the lake goes glassy, the trout typically get more passive, so you’ll want to fish deeper and manipulate the fly less assertively. When you get the midday breeze, the trout generally will become more confident and aggressive. They move right up into the surface chop, and you can get bolder in terms of trolling speed and manipulation of the fly. Rainbow trout see wind-caused chop as current, and this can draw them close to the surface.
While trolling is part of the story when fishing from a watercraft, casting is important, too. Too many reservoir anglers get caught up in fishing out over deep water. Shallow bays, flats, and water immediately off the bank surrounding points can be real hot spots, particularly when targeting trophy-sized fish.
My clients got multiple fish over 10 pounds this season while fishing the backs of mud-bottom bays in water that was five to eight feet deep. We adjusted our depths so that the flies were about a foot off the bottom, and it was hammer time, particularly in the afternoon hours, when there was chop and small whitecaps were on the surface. I remember one 11.6-pound rainbow that we hooked in the back of a small cove. The fish was no more than two feet deep and no more than a yard off the bank when it struck. When the line came tight, the trout spun around and headed for deeper water, making a massive swirl that would have spiked the adrenaline of the most stoic angler.
A first glance, bank fishing a big, deep reservoir can be intimidating for any angler, but this is probably doubly true for the fly angler. Put that anxiety aside. Reservoirs are perfect for fly anglers targeting trout from the shoreline. First, as I just illustrated, when the water is cold, the trout will come extremely close to the bank. And due to the up-and-down nature of most NorCal reservoirs, there is often little near-shore vegetation to impede casting. But reservoirs, especially large reservoirs, have miles and miles of shoreline, and much of it will be unproductive for fly fishers. You improve your chances by doing as the bankside conventional-tackle flingers do and focus on points, shallow flats, deep drop-offs, bottlenecks, and other features that serve to concentrate trout. Another important feature is inflowing water. Even if it’s only a six-inch-wide trickle, fish where it joins the lake, because game fish may stack up there.
Naturally, when fishing from the bank, you lack the mobility of a boater or kayaker, so you’ll want to employ a fan-casting strategy, covering all the water in front of you from the surface to 10 or 12 feet deep. Fish a full-sinking line with a sink rate of at least one inch per second. When casting from the bank, there is a tendency always to cast toward open water, but don’t neglect casting parallel to the shoreline. This is especially true when working points. Trout will cruise just offshore, hoping to crowd wayward shad up against the rocks. Put your fly in that position and hang on.
As with trolling or casting from a watercraft, play with different retrieves, and let the trout tell you want they want. At times, a slow strip-pause-repeat approach is perfect. However, when the trout are hot for prey, you can’t move a fly too fast or too assertively. Those are the times trouters live for.
Flies for Reservoir Trout
Tackle and tactics are fun and games, but fly patterns make our hearts skip a beat. We love looking at them, tying them, and talking about them. So what patterns are best for reservoir trout? The fact is, there are few wet flies or streamers that won’t work at one time or another. For a top level of success, though, you’ll want to choose your weapons with consideration to size and color. When the trout are feeding on shad or pond smelt, it makes sense to employ streamers that match. Dark-over-light streamer patterns in the 1.5-to-3-inch range are great all-around performers. Big flies do equal big fish at times, but not always. I’ve seen eight-pound-plus rainbows caught while pulling size 10 flies, so it makes sense to have a few small patterns in your arsenal. Having said that, you’ll get more use out of 1.5-to-2.5-inch streamer patterns than small or really big patterns.
In addition to patterns imitating shad and pond smelt, I like to have some black, olive, and brown streamer patterns on hand, as well as some super bright offerings in pink, orange, yellow, and chartreuse. Both bright and dark patterns work well when the water is stained. Fresh planters really dig those crazy neon patterns — flies sporting chartreuse marabou teamed with a bright pink body, and don’t spare the tinsel and Flashabou. Woolly Buggers in sizes 4 and 6 are great offerings, and I’ve had outstanding luck with white-on-white size 6 Woolly Buggers. Not only do they catch trout of both large and small proportions, but my clients also have caught large numbers of bass, crappies, and bluegills on them. When I’ve got a youngster on the boat and I absolutely positively need action, I’ll often rig up a rod with a white Woolly Bugger, setting the stage for plenty of laughs and smiles as I run other rods armed with larger streamers intended for big fish.
So, there you have it. You’ve been ignoring the reservoirs and the rainbows that swim their fertile waters. I’m formally throwing down the gauntlet. When the weather cools off, and the holdovers move up and the planters go in, I want to see some of you dedicated fly flingers in the field. I’m all alone out there, surrounded by spoon trollers and dough bait soakers. Let’s not leave all those big, bad rainbows to those guys. Get out there and claim some for the fly-fishing fraternity.