Shingletown California Trout Mecca!

Shingletown road sign boasts population 3000 awfully contented souls! Visitors urged not to blink when passing by or they will be in the tiny hamlet of Manton. These days the population is more like 10,000 and slowly climbing.Crime free with real seasonal changes blazing Fall colors and for all you dedicated brothers and sisters of the Long Rod more choices to throw bugs then this column can address! Pacific Gas & Electric holding ponds are well stocked and open year round where one can stay sharp and get ready for April trout stream opening. As mentioned in my April column the area is resplendent in outdoor activities from the Wild Horse Sanctuary www.wildhorsesanctuary.org which can be seen from the back porch of Westonhouse Bed & Breakfast www.westonhouse.com .

Fly Venues

Fly fishers are the big winners in this still wild mountain paradise which ought to be renamed Trout Central! Beginning with Keswick Canal, Rainbow’s and Brook trout are planted every other week at small ponds like Grace, Nora, one must be alert for rattlesnakes in the spring! McCumber reservoir 85 acres Rainbows planted three times in spring, fine place to throw deep diving nymphs. South & Cow creek many pools and riffles which mean excellent fly action early and late. Crickets, grasshoppers, deep diving nymphs and when the late summer hatches explode be prepared! Each month all summer 2008 I will feature one the more legendary fly venues from Fall River to Hat Creek...

Irish Phantasma Dreamscape Opening Morning Hat Creek

Pacific Ocean salty sea odors mixed with San Francisco 3am fog horn’s undulating in and out of my almost asleep self lingers on the last tastes of wild African Impala steaks sauteed in Tibetan hallucinogenic magic mushrooms with just a touch of 2oo year old single malt scotch and the evaporation of reality overcame me.....

“ Excuse me is the private number of the Irish fly fishing writer Dude?”

“ Yeah Wolf in repose, who is this?”

“ This is The Secretary on the Interior’s private appointment manager Sir. I have a message that will be sent to you on your encoded line in next two minutes. The Secretary would like to speak with you now.”

“ Good morning, Sir I have been authorized by the President of The United States to grant you one wish for the Summer 2008 trout Opening morning, anything, Sir, anything at all?”

“ Yes, You can grant me exclusive use of three miles of the best section of Hat Creek in upper northern California my friend!’

“ No problem, send the G.P.S. points and its yours until dark , all yours.”

Ancient Leprechaun, Nis, Boggart, Kobold, Fly Fisher Nirvana?

By 427am my fly surrealistic sojourn mushroom fueled flight by King Oberon playing Pan’s Irish bagpipes haunting me like the Sea Monster Eagle that is the mighty talismen of many northern California native creation myths captured my spirit. My one and only absolutely perfect alone dream fly opening morning on sacred public waters began to unfold..

Haunting sounds of chanting black Buffalo robed medicine men, llmai and Atsuge native peoples thanking the gods for the never ending abundance of pure waters that flow from the eastern lassen intermingle with magical underground waters conjuring trout nirvana, Hat Creek legendary ! As I gazed at my pockitful of carefully tied Pale morning Dun’s # 14, 16, Mahogony Dun’s # 1, 18 tied with wild fox face hairs, several crippled Trico’s Maroon & Black Marabou, half dozen mixed Green Drake’s tied with local wild Turkey feathers...... My arsonal complete with ten deep diving gold nypths and assorted Black, Green Wool Buggers.....My personel section includes all the water from powerhouse # 3 ending near the fish barrier. No humans have been near the area for two weeks as morning sun warms the air I slowly approach the clear deep pool and catch fractured glimpses of shiny twenty inch Rainbow’s and dark green torpedo Browns lurking in the shadows. My deep diving dark gold nympth sinks for less then three seconds and is hit hard.

Moments later my size seven tippit breaks of at the fly and the healthy 18 inch Rainbow is long gone. Every throw yeilds a hit or a hook up as I work one end of each of my favorite pools., deep nympths are replaced by Flashing Black Wolly Buggers worked under ledges and near large builders, under tree limbs and prove equally effective securing a fish every other cast regardless of my imperfections... Eagles are gliding over head ignoring me and moving with the wind, brand new early spring wet grass, running water, birds singing, sun warming my wading jacket as I reflect on what a lucky man I’m this morning and in life.... I change to another weighted diving nymph tied with flashy gold chenille and let in drift and sink quickly, it is hit and the fish rejects it. On the second throw the flashy nymph is hit before it drops three feet, the fight lasts four minutes and a nice 18 inch Bow is released. Ten trout are caught and released and its time for a break...

As I take a long pull on my ice cold milk the sounds of slow ancient native drumming fill the atmosphere around me while visions of Ilmawi, Atsuge elders appeare watching with long sad faces...

“ White man with Bamboo and feathers catch and let go these fish we ate and caught with our hands under rocks or with sharpened sticks baited and pushed under and near rocks. “” “ We in the spirit world are saddened beyond words at what our poor uneducated dumb little white brothers have done to the rivers, streams, creeks birds, game animals, air, everything you have touched has turned out polluted and near death. You have destroyed a land and its never ending natural resources with unbridled greed and absolute ignorance. Now pathetic wannabe outdoors men like your self fly fishing writer play games with fish we revered and caught to feed and survive. Yes, this makes us sad indeed white man.”

YELLOW JACKET