Therapy for the fisherman

If it’s possible to have an adult fetal position, and if it’s okay that I have two, the first is the fire pit in front of mom’s house in Klawock, Alaska.

Therapy location #1.
Therapy location #1.

The Sims Flat campground on the Upper Sacramento River in California would be the second.

I'd be happier if it was the big one I just lost.
I’d be happier if it was the big one I just lost.

There’s been a lot of noise lately. Good noise, but noise nonetheless. All the texts I sent which made my working friends jealous are being chucked back at me now that I’ve left fishing and hunting paradise for where work is in California. I asked for it, and I like it. I mean, who doesn’t like seeing pictures of people having a good life?
But I shut everything down Friday after work for my first trip to the Upper Sacramento River since May. It’s nice to be unreachable. Refreshing. Trains aren’t, but whatever.
The fishing was as expected. Good in the morning and evening, but tough in the heat of the day. In fact, it was more than heat of the day. I had to take two showers when I got home. The layers of sweat and camping grease required a second cleaning. There have been good reports in and around the Dunsmuir area, so I tried the other side just because I assumed all the fishing pressure would be in the cooler upper regions. I stopped at the Slate Creek exit and even though it was evening, it was just uncomfortable. Not even wet wading was refreshing. I didn’t last long and headed north where the water was cooler and air less oppressive.
Dropping little black bugs off a rubber legs was the way to go. Black AP, dark-winged prince nymphs, zebra midges, black birds nests etc. all got some run with similar results. It really was more about the time of day. I caught a few small shakers during the heat, but the big fish were sulking.

As far as therapy goes, the river did its job. I can make it another five days.

Leave a Reply