Getting Shook on the Sac

The July morning was hot and almost over when I found him. The water didn’t look like much, just some confused, swirling currents below a minor riffle drop. I’d passed the spot a hundred times and had never seen so much as a single fish rising. Until today. Wading past, I was intent on the next familiar piece of water, and it was just dumb luck that I noticed out of the corner of my eye a tiny geyser of water that didn’t seem to belong. Unconvinced, I nonetheless listened to my gut and stopped, impatiently agreeing with myself to watch the water for 30 seconds. At 10, I saw it again— a soft explosion that seemed to take place mostly beneath the surface, with just the barest glimpse of metallic pink. A lot of pink.

I made the deep and slightly treacherous wade to get within casting distance of the fish, and as I rocked in the buffeting waist-deep flows, struggling to stay planted, I realized that getting a dead-drift with a dry fly in the tumult was a non-starter.

To have any chance at this beast, I would have to make a subsurface presentation. Normally in this situation I would fish a two-fly rig beneath a yarn indicator, relentlessly stack-mending to achieve a dead-drift presentation. But the past hour of hooking fish after fish on a caddis pupa—swung across the current on a tight line, just inches beneath the surface—told me this would need to be different.

It was not pretty. The mere motion of casting threatened to send me tumbling downstream in the heavy current, and the moment my floating line landed it was pulled underwater by the chaotic eddies, robbing me of the ability to mend, swing, or control the drift at all. It seemed hopeless, but I just couldn’t bring myself to walk away from this huge trout, which continued to feed greedily near the surface.

On about the 30th cast I spotted a suspicious boil just below where my little nymph landed, and without thinking I set the hook. I came tight, and was immediately rewarded with violent head shakes telegraphed through my fly rod. For long seconds the monster just hung there in the roiling flows, angrily trying to rid itself of the offending morsel. Exerting some down-and-dirty side pressure to try to move the fish was instantly and wildly successful. Unfortunately, the fish chose to head toward the far shore of the wide river.

In mere seconds my fly line was gone and the backing was evaporating at an alarming rate. Nothing I tried slowed the fish in the least—its headlong rush was simply unstoppable. About 75 yards into the run I felt added pressure as the massive trout slowed, then stopped. It felt suspiciously as though the fish had found a midriver boulder. For several additional seconds I could still discern life tugging at the end of my line, then . . . nothing. I’d been beaten.

Cold Flow

The lower Sacramento River flows huge, cold, and teeming with trout for more than 50 miles downstream of Shasta Dam in Northern California. Below that 50-mile mark the river emerges from the foothills surrounding the city of Redding and drops into the northern tip of California’s vast Central Valley. Rainbows can still be found here, but as the river nears the agricultural town of Chico—nearly 100 miles downstream from Shasta Lake—the water warms sufficiently to make it less ideal for trout, but perfect for striped bass, largemouth bass, sturgeon, catfish, and a variety of panfish species. This critical stretch of water remains cool enough to facilitate the annual upstream migrations of salmon, steelhead, and shad. It is a remarkably complex fishery in its entirety.

The tailwater section in and around Redding deservedly garners the lion’s share of attention from fly fishers—the numbers and average sizes of wild rainbow trout found here are phenomenal. Guides consistently get their clients into impressive numbers of fish with an average size hovering around 15 inches, with a good many rainbows exceeding the 20-inch mark. These fat trout benefit from the rich insect biomass found in the rocky streambed.

The lower Sacramento was once nearly barren of trout—thanks to multiple sources of caustic pollutants—but the river has emerged phoenix-like from those ashes, largely due to successful efforts to mitigate the poisonous effluents. As well, a coldwater device installed on the face of Shasta Dam in 1997 pulls frigid water from different levels in the depths of Shasta Lake to ensure consistently cold flows downstream. While this was first implemented to help the river’s struggling Chinook salmon runs, these chill releases have also proved a boon to resident trout, providing them perfect habitat to feed and grow year-round.

The cold, clean water has also allowed important aquatic insects to reestablish themselves. Pale Morning Duns, Blue-winged Olives, Little Yellow Stones, and Salmonflies—trout foods that require pure water and had not been seen in numbers for many decades—now thrive. In short, the river has become a world-class fishery that attracts anglers from around the globe. The upper river is open to fishing and remains productive year-round. The only exception is a special four-month closure each year, from April 1 through July 31, between Keswick Dam and the Highway 44 bridge.  

In the spring and summer, river flows are increased to 12,000 to 15,000 cubic feet per second (cfs) to accommodate agricultural water needs downriver, so the most efficient fishing approaches involve a drift boat. Six-weight outfits with moderately large-bellied floating lines are perfect for the lower Sacramento. Indicator and nymph rigs with two or even three flies are very effective, with tippet lengths between the indicator and bottom nymph often around 7 to 9 feet.

Some guides prefer dry/dropper rigs—in specific water types this is a deadly technique. Summer can also be the best time to find trout up near the surface eating drys at some point in the day, whether there’s a Pale Morning Dun hatch in the afternoon or evening, or a caddis emergence just before dark. But experienced Sac anglers through the year depend predominantly on nymphing action.

In fall and winter, the flows drop precipitously to 4,000 to 6,000 cfs, and while driftboat fishing remains the most productive method, the lower flows open up a number of wading opportunities to intrepid anglers. I personally enjoy this season the best, fishing the riffles and runs you can access through public property. Typically this means parking near the river and hiking a short distance to the water.

I rarely begin fishing earlier than nine in the morning in winter, and more normally I’m on the water between noon and dark. Commonly I’ll fish all the water at one access, then drive to another and fish that as well. Some accesses open up multiple wadable riffles and keep me occupied for hours, while others have less water, and I’ll burn through them in under an hour.

I love wading these varied stretches of river and fishing them methodically, finding subtle holding water that I know many others will miss, or spots that are inaccessible to floating anglers. I rarely enjoy the big-number days you can experience with a guide and a drift boat, but I love the challenge and satisfaction of this style of fishing.

As with any river, it pays to be aware of seasonal hatches, even when nymphing, though as a rule fish here will take the nymphal patterns of all the prevalent insects, year-round. This means carrying nymphs in your box that imitate various caddis species in sizes 14 to 18—in tan, olive, or black; mayflies in sizes 16 to 20 to imitate Pale Morning Duns and Blue-winged Olives; Little Yellow Stones, sizes 14 to 16; and Salmonflies in sizes 6 to 8.  

Scuds, fairly recent additions to fly fishers’ boxes here, can also be important, in sizes 12 to 16 and colors ranging from orange to tan to olive.

When the dry-fly action does occur, it is rare that a size 16 Missing Link won’t fill the bill, regardless of the hatch.

Diverse Fishery

The Sacramento River is historically and biologically important, because it hosts four distinct runs of Chinook salmon—spring, fall, late fall, and winter. It’s the only river in the world where this occurs.

When I was a teenager growing up in Chico, tributaries of the Sac would get heavy returns of these various runs, in some years clogging the waterways to the point of making fishing for steelhead in the same streams nearly impossible, as you would constantly foul-hook salmon. Sadly, over the past decades these runs have been decimated, in no small part due to habitat loss.

The installation of Shasta Dam in 1938—though hugely successful in its mandate to generate electricity, control floodwaters, and provide consistent water flows for Central Valley agricultural interests—instantly cut off the ancestral spawning grounds of the upper Sacramento, McCloud, and Pit rivers, not to mention the many tributaries to these streams. As devastating as this was, the dam continued to erode salmon numbers even more with its water practices, often designed with downstream agricultural needs as the priority.

It was not unusual, particularly during drought years, for salmon to build their nests during high water releases, only to have the dam subsequently reduce flows, dewatering the nests and killing all the eggs. For these and other reasons the once magnificent Sacramento River salmon returns now teeter on the edge of extinction. There are a few bright spots, with habitat restoration efforts in various tributary streams showing promising results. I can only hope Mother Nature is able to take these valiant efforts and reward them with a steadily rebuilding salmon population, going forward.

Many anglers do not realize that the lower Sac still supports a small steelhead run that was once very significant. But the same habitat degradation issues that have plagued the salmon runs have also taken their toll on the steelhead. What remains is a combination of hatchery-reared steelhead and a vestigial population of wild fish scattered throughout the Sacramento and its tributaries.

The fish hatcheries have seen some remarkable returns over the years, but also some pretty dismal ones. Anecdotal evidence seems to indicate that wild steelhead have seen a fairly consistent drop in numbers, with a few tributary populations still hanging on. It is possible to target these fish in the lower Sac, typically downstream of the Battle Creek inflow—this stream is home to a fish hatchery that sees quite a few steelhead return each fall in October and November. (Battle Creek itself is closed to fishing below the hatchery to protect returning salmon and steelhead.) These fish average 4 to 8 pounds and are targeted with both indicators and nymphs, as well as swing-fishing techniques. The nymphs are the same as for trout and include single egg flies. Swinging fly patterns run the gamut from Intruder-style to traditional drab West Coast steelhead flies such as Brindle Bugs, Burlaps, and Silver Hiltons.

In the past decade or so, the striped bass population—always robust from the Chico area down to salt water—has slowly found its way upstream to Redding. Currently the numbers that far upriver are minimal, though we are reminded of their presence by the occasional trout being snatched from our lines. There aren’t enough stripers to consistently target with a fly rod, though guides in the Chico area are quite successful.

Most of the fish in the Chico area are smaller schoolies in the 2- to 8-pound range, but fish over 30 pounds are landed every year. Seven-weight rods and sinking tips are ideal for the smaller fish, though if you are targeting larger stripers with oversized flies, a 9-weight rod is more appropriate.

Most flies for these aggressive gamefish are based on various baitfish themes, and run from sizes 2 to 3/0. Keep in mind that the early summer striper fishing in this area coincides with the annual spawning run of American shad—fish averaging 2 to 4 pounds—which are a blast on a 6-weight outfit.

As would be expected of such a remarkable fishery, a significant guide presence has grown up around the Sacramento. I would guess there are in the neighborhood of 60 fly-fishing guides who call the trout area of the lower Sac their home waters. That sounds like a lot until you realize they can easily spread out over more than 30 miles of river. And truthfully, most days you only see half those numbers on the water. There are plenty of boat ramps between Redding and Red Bluff (approximately 50 river miles), and huge numbers of rainbow trout throughout the stretch. As a rule, anglers hook more large fish in the upper stretch between Redding and Anderson, though trophy fish are found throughout the system, thanks to the healthy environment and coldwater flows. The lower reaches, downstream of Anderson, see less fishing pressure, and there tend to be a lot more fish per river mile, albeit slightly smaller trout.

As I write this, the weather is gorgeous in Northern California, with daytime highs in the 70s and nighttime temperatures dipping into the 40s.

I fished a favorite stretch of the Sac here in Redding recently, and with flows running a scanty 4,000 cfs there were nearly limitless wading opportunities. I fished my trusty yarn indicator above tandem nymphs—a size 8 Brown Rubberlegs followed by a size 16 Jigged Micro Mayfly. With those conditions and those flies, no split-shot was necessary.

The low water allowed for a short tippet drop, only 5 feet of 4X fluorocarbon between the yarn and the bottom fly, and I didn’t need to change that drop length all day, regardless of the water depth. In about four hours on the water I hooked eight fish, all between 12 and 21 inches, including one 18-inch specimen that was so fat it felt like reeling in an overfed, exceptionally angry Dachshund. The trout were striking lightly, making the sensitive yarn indicator an advantage overall, though a few takedowns in heavy water were almost comically violent. The river was lined with towering cottonwoods, their yellowing leaves rustling in the breeze, and as I fished I could smell the cool, loamy fragrance of autumn in the air. I have been fortunate to call the lower Sac my home river for more than four decades, and I will never cease to be grateful for its many treasures.

Protecting Jelly’s Ferry

At 377 miles long, the Sacramento River is the largest river in California and the second largest on the West Coast in terms of volume. The Sacramento supplies more than 30 percent of California’s water, holds more fish species than any other watershed in the state, and provides key habitat for an incredible array of wildlife.

Between the cities of Redding and Red Bluff, the river dips into a large, low-elevation channel with an impressive riparian ecosystem. This 56-mile section represents the only stretch of the Sacramento below Shasta Dam that remains in a relatively natural condition. It also includes the Sacramento River Bend Area of Critical Environmental Concern (ACEC), a lush expanse of wetlands, important steelhead and salmon habitat, winter range for black-tailed deer, archaeological sites, excellent recreational lands, and scenic vistas. The The Bureau of Land Management (BLM) is exploring designating this segment of the Sacramento for recreational classification under the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act.

To help restore the river ecosystem and protect a rare reach of the valley with mature riparian forests, Western Rivers Conservancy purchased a critical 288-acre riverfront property known as the Jelly’s Ferry parcel, and immediately transferred the property to the BLM, which will enhance recreational opportunities and restore floodplain, riparian, and off-channel habitats.

The property includes a mile of river frontage, and the property’s extensive tree canopy helps create prime habitat for Chinook salmon, trout, and steelhead. The diverse mix of sycamores, valley oaks, and cottonwoods lining the river here help create habitat for invertebrates that are essential to anadromous fish.

Conserving the Jelly’s Ferry parcel will also enhance opportunities for hikers, anglers, and equestrians within the ACEC, and sets the stage for the BLM to explore the possibility of opening the first public campground in the area, adjacent to the existing Oak Slough trailhead. The trailhead connects to the popular Yana Trail system, which allows hikers and horseback riders to explore the eastern portion of the ACEC.

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Mike Mercer is the West Coast field editor for Fly Fisherman, and the author of Creative Fly Tying (Wild River Press, 2006). He has been a travel associate at The Fly Shop (theflyshop.com) at Redding, California for more than 25 years. In 2024, he was inducted into the Northern California Council of Fly Fishers International Hall of Fame. Previous inductees have included Mel Krieger (1993), Steve Rajeff (2007), André Puyans (1995), Dan Blanton (2002), and others.

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